


Inspecting the Admiral's Uniform

by Noblehunter



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Admiral!Shiro, Anal Sex, Established Relationship, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Stripping, Uniform Kink, bottom!shiro, top!Keith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:13:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25501177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Noblehunter/pseuds/Noblehunter
Summary: Keith inspects Shiro's uniform after a long day. Spoiler: Shiro doesn't pass the inspection.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 59





	Inspecting the Admiral's Uniform

**Author's Note:**

> Much gratitude to [colieb2183](https://archiveofourown.org/users/colieb2183/pseuds/colieb2183) for the inspiration and (much later) the beta.

Keith never gets tired of seeing Shiro in uniform. So much so that he likes to do a little inspection before their morning shift. He gets Shiro to stand at parade rest, his shoulders so broad the buttons of his jacket are starting to pull, legs spread wide, all rippling muscle hidden beneath pressed cotton. His chest broad and thrown forward, posture impeccable. He looks delicious.

Keith looks him over closely, flicking off imaginary lint and adjusting a bit of braid. Then reaches over to grab Shiro’s junk and gives it a tug. “You’re tucking right.”

Then he sends Shiro off to work with a smack on the ass. There were advantages to working shorter days than his Admiral husband. Not only could he see him off to work, he could be there when he got home. Some days he has dinner ready, other days he does another inspection.

The signal that a scene's about to start is Keith calling Shiro into their home office. Keith stands behind the desk still in his dress uniform. It was important to get maximum contrast. After a long day, Shiro’s uniform is anything but immaculate. 

The first thing Keith objects to is Shiro’s uniform trousers. The crease is long gone and the seams are askew. There are wrinkles forming around the knees. Keith takes his time tugging it this way and that to try get the seams right. 

He stands and sighs. “There’s no help for it,” he says. “You have to take them off. And your boots, too.”

He can feel Shiro tense. Usually the trousers were the last to go. 

“Do you want me to take my socks off, too?” Shiro says, keeping his gaze level.” 

“Keep them on,” Keith says. 

Shiro kneels to untie his boots. That’s almost enough to make Keith break the scene. Shiro on his knees is too enticing but he holds his reviewing posture while Shiro takes his boots off and places them tidily to the side.

Shiro stands to unbuckle his belt. He looks straight ahead, neither meeting Keith’s gaze nor looking away from him. He pulls the belt free and coils it up. He settles it on top of his boots. He opens his fly with equally efficient motions and lets his trouser fall before stepping out of them.

Keith’s breath catches. The hem of Shiro’s uniform shirt and jacket rest just above his hips and do nothing to hide the blue panties Shiro is wearing. They’re sheer, perfectly outlining the shape of Shiro’s cock and balls. The fabric only adds a blue sheen to Shiro’s tanned skin instead of obscuring anything. Again, Keith has to steel himself to prevent himself from breaking role. He waits. His cock stiffens while Shiro deliberately folds his trousers and places them on the chair. Shiro’s cock remains soft and Keith stares at it. Finally, Shiro returns to parade rest, cheeks ever so slightly flushed and with the barest hint of smirk.

Keith lets himself step forward and grab Shiro roughly by the package. 

“What’s this?” he asks, imitating a drill sergeant.. “Is this what you’re supposed to be wearing as part of your uniform?” 

Shiro might look soft, but he was stiff against Keith’s palm. He wants to caress Shiro. To rub his hand over the lace-covered package until Shiro was hot and hard. Then he could kneel before Shiro and lick the blue lace until it was soaked through. He could pull it down and take Shiro into his mouth, suck him off while he was still half dressed in his uniform. 

Instead he gives Shiro another tug, and says, “I asked you a question.”

“Sorry, no,” Shiro says. “They aren’t but they’re so much more comfortable.” 

“I should make you take them off,” Keith says, after letting go of Shiro’s package. 

Though, honestly, he’d have to end the scene if he did. He wants to tear them off with his teeth. Damn Shiro for wearing blue.

“You can keep them on for now,” he says after a battle with temptation. “Let’s see if we can’t fix your jacket.”

Shiro had clearly taken his jacket off at some point. It was too high on Shiro’s right side and the buttons zig-zagged despite the width of Shiro’s shoulders trying to pull them straight. The lines of decoration were askew, jostled from their neat rows. Even the rank insignia on his collars and shoulders were disarrayed.

Keith takes his time trying to straighten everything out. He holds the fabric in position with a hand pressed against Shiro’s chest and tugs something straight with the other hand. Then he steps in close to adjust the collar, almost close enough to kiss Shiro. It was always the last thing he did in the morning and he could tell Shiro had to repress the urge to lean forward for a kiss.

When he adjusts the fall of the jacket down Shiro’s back, Keith presses himself against Shiro. It’s too easy to push his aching cock into Shiro’s bare thigh. He got a good look at Shiro’s ass and the flimsy string of lace which disappeared between his cheeks. He had plans for that later.

Still, he has to decide that he couldn’t restore the jacket to parade ready. Before he stands back, he grabs Shiro’s now erect cock for a quick stroke through the blue lace. Shiro doesn’t so much as twitch. 

“You might as well take the jacket off, too,” he says.

Shiro carefully undoes the buttons of his jacket. He takes care not to move too quickly or to further ruin the hang of his ribbons. Once he removes it, he carefully hangs it on the back of the chair so it falls straight. As if conscious of Keith’s eyes, he turns away and bends forward to tug a last seam into position. Then he straightens and resumes parade rest, as if ignorant of his cock straining against blue lace, with a damp spot at its tip.

There wasn’t much Keith could do about the shirt. Shiro had also taken it off and Keith crooks an eyebrow as if to ask why Shiro had been dressing down while on duty. Shiro keeps his face expressionless. This time, Keith undoes the buttons, exposing a glimpse of Shiro’s chest. No surprises under there today, but Keith makes a point of running his hands under the shirt to adjust how it fits. When Keith gives into the temptation to tweak a nipple, there’s the slightest catch in Shiro’s breathing.

Then Keith walks behind Shiro, noting the wrinkles in the shirt where it hadn’t been tucked back in properly. He let a hand brush Shiro’s ass while he tried to pull the wrinkles out. It was no use. 

“Take the shirt off, too,” Keith says with a sigh. “You have to take better care of your uniform.”

Shiro shrugs out of the shirt, giving Keith a perfect view of the large oil stain on the back of Shiro’s undershirt. 

“What the hell?” Keith snaps. Shiro actually starts. “You’ve ruined this.” 

Keith stalks around to Shiro’s front, where the shirt is held out as if it was a shield. There were the expected sweat stains at Shiro’s armpits but there was also a line of spots where oil must have dribbled across Shiro. That explained why Shiro had taken off his shirt and jacket. 

“Put the shirt away,” Keith says and glowers at Shiro while the other man folds the shirt and places it on top of his trousers. 

“At least you didn’t stain your shirt,” he says after Shiro straightens. 

He considers the stained undershirt for a long moment. Shiro has too much discipline to actually squirm or fidget but Keith can feel his discomfort. When he figures Shiro has felt properly embarrassed by the state of his clothes, he reaches forward to grab the undershirt by the collar. The material is light and thin, designed to wick sweat away and let the skin breathe under the heavier fabric of the shirt and jacket. It tears easily. One sharp jerk rips it from collar to hem. Shiro doesn’t even budge. The cloth hangs like rags, looking strange against Shiro’s imposing bearing.

“Take it off,” Keith spits. 

Shiro lets it fall to the floor. He’s nearly naked, wearing only regulation black socks and blue lace panties. Keith strolls around him, taking in every line of Shiro’s body as he holds an impeccable stance. He’s burning to press himself against Shiro, to rut against his thighs or press his cock between Shiro’s ass cheeks. But Shiro wouldn’t have worn the panties if he didn’t want a longer scene. Keith stops behind Shiro both to admire the view and consider his next step.

Keith runs his hand over Shiro’s ass. He lingers, enjoying the firm smoothness, slipping his fingers into the crack, and rubbing the lace across Shiro’s hole. He walks around Shiro again, letting his hand trail across Shiro’s skin. Just before he’d brush his fingertips over Shiro’s cock he pulls away. He crosses his arms and glowers at Shiro again.

“You ruined your undershirt,” he begins. “You failed to properly restore your uniform after removing half of it.” He narrows his eyes. “You didn’t take your trousers off, did you?” 

Shiro snaps to attention. If he were still wearing his boots, they’d have clicked. He goes scarlet at what must be the image of him in an undershirt and panties doing maintenance. 

The new stance emphasizes Shiro’s muscles. His pecs are even more taut than they are at parade rest. His thighs pressing together are an endless expanse of thick muscle. His arms at his sides and the vee of his torso draw the eye to the flimsy piece of bright blue fabric that barely offers the suggestion of concealing his erection.

“I did not remove my trousers,” Shiro says with his old sergeants’ cadence of addressing an idiot who unfortunately happened to be an officer. 

“It’s a good thing you didn’t have to,” Keith answers leisurely. “Or people would have gotten a show.” 

“I was careful,” Shiro says defensively. 

“I’m sure you were.” 

Keith glides forward and grabs Shiro by the balls. Shiro doesn’t even quiver. His balls were a pleasant handful, but not as nice as grabbing the whole package. Too bad Shiro was so hard already.

“Should I remove the offending clothing myself?” Keiths asks softly. 

“I can take them off,” Shiro says quickly, “sir.” 

The honorific is a signal that Shiro doesn’t want to be pushed on this. 

“Very well,” Keith says though he sticks his hand inside the panties to give Shiro a good grope from balls to tip as consolation.

He stands back and Shiro peels the panties down his legs. They’re so tight the fabric clings and twists as Shiro forces them over his thighs. Once he gets them down his calves, he steps out of them and carefully untwists them. He holds them out in front of him to make sure none of the delicate fabric has torn before laying them on top of his uniform and returning to attention.

“Parade rest,” Keith orders because there’s something ridiculous and unsexy about standing at attention with an erection. The more relaxed pose is easier to appreciate. 

After giving Shiro a moment to be curious about what comes next, Keith goes behind his desk and sits. He pulls out a reader and puts his feet up. “I’ve got some paperwork to do. Afterwards we can discuss the state of your uniform.”

Naturally, Keith gets very little work done. It was impossible to not to keep sneaking glances at Shiro. Parade rest did an even better job at showing off Shiro’s assets when he was naked. The broad chest and smooth stomach just begged for Keith’s attention. Yet, the scene wouldn’t work if Keith just gazed at Shiro in hopeless adoration. So he pretends to read reports while Shiro stands motionless.

He makes it through three reports before he gives in. He stands and walks around his desk. He very carefully looks Shiro over. Shiro had gone soft while he waited. Keith couldn’t keep from filling his hand with Shiro’s cock and balls while they’d fit. They were warm and heavy in Keith’s palm. He ran his thumb down Shiro’s shaft and rolled Shiro’s balls over his fingers. Shiro quickly grows hard and Keith is left with just balls in his hand. He let them go and stood back.

“I need to get more comfortable,” he says after admiring his handiwork. “Take off my uniform.”

One of the more unexpected things he’d discovered about Shiro after moving in with him was that Shiro had gotten training as a valet. Apparently it was part of officer's training that he'd missed or outright skipped. It had little practical use but made this part of the game more interesting. 

Shiro steps in close, hands going to Keith’s collar. Keith holds himself back from going for a kiss while Shiro undoes his jacket buttons. He turns around to let Shiro pull the jacket off each arm and then faced front to watch Shiro hang it up in the closet. Shiro could make crossing a room incredibly sexy just by doing it naked.

Once he returns to Keith, Shiro kneels to remove Keith’s boots. He bends his head to see the laces, and all Keith can see is the muscles of his back and the top of his head. 

Keith says, “Eyes front,” and Shiro’s head snaps up to the perfect height for Keith to put a hand behind Shiro’s head and press Shiro’s face into his crotch. 

“I didn’t say to stop undoing my boots,” he says, rocking his hips so his cloth-covered erection rubs up and down Shiro’s cheek. It didn’t feel nearly as good as it would without his underwear and trousers in the way but he’d take it. The worst part of these scenes with Shiro was his own self denial.

After Shiro unlaced one boot, Keith let him go so he could do the other one undisturbed. He lifts his feet one after the other to let Shiro remove his boots and repeats the process with his socks. He glances down at Shiro's stockinged feet. 

“You should remove your socks as well,” he says with a smile. 

Shiro stands and does so before taking Keith’s boots and putting them away. It had been so easy to get distracted by the magnificence of Shiro’s naked body. 

This time when Shiro returns, he leaves barely enough room between them for him to get his hands on Keith’s belt buckle. He takes his time loosening it. Shiro caresses the fabric below the belt as if to suggest wandering hands. Shiro is supposed to keep his hands to himself unless told otherwise, but he is clearly tempted to take liberties. Keith swallows and hangs on to his stern expression by his fingernails. 

Shiro pulls the belt free. He undoes the fly without taking the excuse to press a hand into Keith’s cock. He does run his hands around the waistband as if to pull Keith’s shirt free of the trousers. Shiro lets his fingers play over Keith’s bare skin and even slip under the elastic of Keith’s boxer briefs.

There is a long moment, not quite a pause, but a mutual holding of breath. Keith is well aware that Shiro could pull down both trousers and underwear leaving Keith bare-assed. Seconds after that, Shiro could have him on the desk and legs in the air. His cock would be down Shiro’s throat and a finger starting to massage him open. They both knew every bit of power Keith kept for the rest of this scene was completely imaginary. His cock throbbed with pleasure at the reminder. The words to tell Shiro to strip and fuck him gathered on his tongue. Yet before Keith could speak, Shiro relented and gently pulled down Keith’s trousers. Keith sighs in both regret and relief. Uniform trousers are uncomfortable with an erection.

Shiro steals a few caresses while undoing Keith’s shirt but nothing Keith can object to. He otherwise undoes the shirt without dramatics. As Shiro puts the discarded clothes away, Keith leans back on his desk. He was a lot more comfortable in red boxer briefs and undershirt. He gives Shiro another few minutes of standing at parade rest. 

“Now, about your uniform,” Keith says with a smirk.

He doesn’t circle around Shiro this time. Keith walks right up to Shiro until their erections are almost touching. He keeps his eyes on Shiro’s mouth, keeps them wide and intent. He knows Shiro adores the upward cant of his face, how Keith approaches him like a supplicant facing his god. 

That means Shiro doesn’t see the sharp pinch of a nipple coming. Keith dives to bite the firm muscle of Shiro’s right pec and drops a hand to run his nails up the inside of Shiro’s thigh. Shiro shivers. Keith raises his head to peck Shiro on the lips and darts back a step, as if getting out of Shiro’s reach. Not that Shiro moved a muscle, though his tongue flicks out as if chasing Keith’s taste.

“Can you guess what your punishment is?” Keith says. 

Shiro lifts an eyebrow and insouciantly remains at parade rest. “You’re going to tease me.”

“Very good,” Keith says, reaching out to fondle Shiro’s balls again. “Are you going to tell me when you’ve been punished enough?” 

“No. I trust you.” 

The plain truth of that statement always punches Keith in the gut. This beautiful man trusts him not just to have his back in a fight, but also to push him to his limits. Keith’s seen enough examples of this kind of play going badly wrong that Shiro’s trust makes him buzz with pride and pleasure.

“Very well.” Keith steps forwards again and sinks to his knees.

He kisses the faint scratches he left on Shiro's thigh and then bites new marks into Shiro’s other thigh. He buries his face into Shiro’s pubes and breathes in the scent of him, cock pressing against his cheek but otherwise ignored. He grabs Shiro’s ass with both hands and uses his fingers to spread the cheeks wide as if showing Shiro’s hole to some invisible audience. He places a line of kisses from Shiro’s hip down to his taint, still ignoring the heavy heat of Shiro’s erection.

Keith pulls back to look up at Shiro. He lets go of Shiro’s ass to grab his hips for balance. Keith tries out an alluring smile which probably doesn’t work from the way Shiro’s cheek twitches. Huffing, he ostentatiously puts a finger in his mouth and makes a show of sucking it. Kieth removes the finger, glistening with saliva, and reaches underneath Shiro to press it against his hole. There’s a hitch in Shiro’s breath and Keith leans in, smiling, as if to take Shiro’s cock in his mouth. Instead, he drops to take one of Shiro’s balls, again ignoring the swollen head. He keeps his finger against Shiro’s hole but not penetrating. He rubs the finger in small circles while rolling Shiro’s ball over his tongue. When he opens wider to take both of Shiro’s balls in a glorious mouthful, he feels a shiver in Shiro’s thighs.

He keeps playing with Shiro’s hole and balls waiting to see if his lover will break and grab his head with both hands. If Shiro fails here, he’ll drag Keith’s head off his balls and shove it onto his cock. Keith will stretch his lips around Shiro and look up plaintively as Shiro ruthlessly uses his mouth. But Shiro doesn’t move. Keith lets Shiro’s balls fall from his mouth and drags his tongue up the side of Shiro’s cock. 

He kisses his way up Shiro’s torso. He stops to bite and suck at a nipple while grinding himself against Shiro, delighting in the slick press of Shiro’s cock. He bites Shiro’s collarbone hard enough to bruise before claiming Shiro’s mouth with an open-mouthed kiss. He wraps a leg around Shiro’s hips to pull them close together and snakes a hand down between them to jerk Shiro off. He pretends to lose himself in the kiss, rocking himself against Shiro for his own pleasure while stroking Shiro’s cock in time. When Shiro’s on the edge of breaking, when he’s either going to grab Keith or just come outright, Keith drops his leg and steps back with one lingering caress of Shiro’s cock. Shiro is shaking and even with Keith out of reach, he’s clearly about to break stance. 

“At ease, Admiral,” Keith says, his voice soft and comforting. 

Tension drains from Shiro as his shoulders settle and arms relax. His cock is still erect but no longer quivering on the brink of climax. Shiro’s still flushed, skin red with arousal and redder where Keith has marked him. Keith has to remind himself that the game isn’t over yet and walks back around his desk.

“Why don’t you go have a shower?” he suggests. “I think there’s still some oil on you.”

Not laughing at the betrayed look on Shiro’s face is its own trial for Keith. He has seen wet cats look less offended. 

“You could join me,” Shiro offers. He opens his mouth as if to add a “sir,” but leaves it unvoiced. 

“I’m sorry,” Keith says, falsely apologetic. “I have more reports to check. I won’t mind if you rush your shower though.”

Shiro somehow infuses his nod with frustration and disappointment but turns on his heel and walks to the bathroom. Keith watches him go before opening another report he’s going to have to actually read later.

Keith leafs through the reports with one hand in his lap. He wasn’t, quite, playing himself but enjoying being almost naked and keeping his arousal at a low simmer. Shiro hadn’t closed any of the doors between Keith’s office and the shower and Keith needed a distraction. He could easily picture Shiro glistening under the spray; taste the metallic bite of recycled water as he kissed and bit his way across Shiro’s body. Even as he listens for any steady rhythms in the beat of water against tile, Keith has to remind himself that the scene was going to finish at his desk. Shiro would win if Keith joined him in the shower.

He’s seconds away from actually jerking off when Shiro returns. Shiro's naked and his hair is tousled from a vigorous toweling. He’s damp but not dripping, not even leaving wet footprints on the floor. He resumes at ease in front of Keith’s desk as if he’s still in full uniform. 

“Did I take too long?” Shiro asks innocently. 

“Right on time, Admiral.” Keith comes out from behind his desk. “Remove the rest of my uniform.”

Shiro grabs the hem of Keith’s under shirt and pulls it brusquely over Keith’s head. It almost tangles with Keith’s braid but Shiro pulls it free easily enough. He kneels, however, to remove Keith’s red boxer briefs. He uses both hands to pull the elastic band out far enough to miss Keith’s erection and slowly drags them down Keith’s thighs. They fall to the ground once Shiro has them past the knees. Keith steps out of them. Shiro takes the underwear and undershirt, folds them, and puts them neatly aside. He looks up at Keith’s with a silent request.

Keith ignores it. “On your feet,” he snaps. “Bend at the waist and put your hands on the desk. Widen your stance.” It’s a familiar pose for Shiro but Keith puts a hand on his back to make him bend over a little more and kicks at his feet to widen his stance. 

The position put Shiro’s ass at a good height for fucking. That would be Shiro’s preference if he couldn’t get his mouth on Keith’s cock. Keith encourages this line of thought by grabbing the lube from the desk drawer. Shiro’s gaze follows Keith’s bobbing erection but he doesn’t turn his head. Once Keith is behind Shiro again, he snaps the lid of the bottle open, pauses, and then snaps it shut again.

Now Keith kneels behind Shiro. He spreads Shiro’s cheeks with one hand and holds his breath as he leans in. The stab of his tongue at Shiro’s hole makes Shiro cry out in surprise. Keith uses his other hand to help spread Shiro open now that he no longer has to pretend that his other hand is busy. Keith licks and pushes at Shiro’s hole. He presses his mouth against Shiro and tries to ease his tongue inside. Shiro’s cry broadens into moans which modulate into curses. Muscles quiver under Keith’s palms and when he’s well seated between Shiro’s cheeks, he reaches around Shiro to start slowly jerking him off.

Keith has gotten the tip of his tongue inside Shiro and can feel Shiro clenching on him. It’s a better indicator of how close Shiro is than his moans or even his breathing. Practice lets Keith take Shiro right to the edge before clamping his hand down on the base of Shiro’s cock and pulling his face back. Shiro howls at his denied release.

Keith stands and wraps himself around Shiro. “It wouldn’t be punishment if you came now,” he whispers into Shiro’s ear. He rubs himself against Shiro and takes a moment to slip a finger into Shiro’s ass. Keith stills while he waits for Shiro’s breathing to calm. 

He leaves his finger in while he reopens the lube one handed and drizzles it on his cock. He gently finger fucks Shiro while he takes a moment to enjoy stroking his well-lubricated cock. After denying himself for so long, it made him close his eyes in relief. Then he pauses to make sure he won’t go off the second he’s inside Shiro. It was a bit of a long pause but when he's finally ready he uses one hand to hold Shiro steady and the other to guide himself in. He goes slowly, staring down at Shiro’s to relish the sight of his cock disappearing into that glorious ass.

“Fuck, Keith,” Shiro says after Keith’s hips were flush against his ass. “Fuck, but no more teasing. I need to come. I need to feel you come. Sir.” The last word was spoken belatedly, as if it had slipped out by accident. Shiro made no sound to call it back. 

Thank god. 

Keith reverses his slow insertion just to make a point and because the drag of Shiro’s ass against the head of his cock is too good to rush. He drives himself home again in a single fast thrust. He has to grab Shiro’s hips to keep himself steady and knows Shiro is gripping the edge of the desk hard enough to damage lesser furniture. Another thrust and the world shrinks to Shiro around his cock and Shiro’s hips hot beneath his hands.

Keith’s snapping his hips forward and back. He’s paying the price for every bit of self control he and Shiro displayed during the scene. He no longer feels Shiro around his cock, just pure pleasure as he thrust and withdrew. His own hole twitches in sympathy and, fuck, he’ has to remember to put a plug in one of these days. He’s saying something but he’s not sure what. He just needs to fuck Shiro faster, to get his cock deeper. Pleasure coils behind his balls. Lines of ecstasy reach out and up, farther with every thrust. Shiro is screaming, his muscles clenching around Keith’s cock and there’s a live wire running down the center of his body. It winds tighter with every squeeze of Shiro hole and tighter every time Keith bottoms out. 

It snaps. 

Keith keeps fucking as pleasure cascades through his muscles. Each pulse of his cock is like liquid fire. He leans over onto Shiro’s back and half collapses, every point of touch burns like an echo of his climax. He spends himself over endless seconds of overwhelming physicality. Nothing matters but being as close as he can to Shiro.

A minute passes, or two, or three. Shiro straightens and turns to catch Keith in his arms. Keith whines as the movement pulls him out of Shiro but he’s soothed with a kiss. 

“You okay, babe?” Shiro asks. 

“I’m fine,” Keith says, clinging to Shiro. He slurs his words a little. “You were the sub, I should be asking you that.”

“Despite your sadistic streak, that was a mild scene. Playing like this always takes a lot out of you.”

“But you’re okay?” 

“I’m fine. Let’s get you something to drink and then into bed.”

“It’s very important to rehydrate after an intense scene,” Keith informs Shiro solemnly. “I’ll hold the straw so you can just relax.”

“I love you, babe,” Shiro says and he’s smiling for some reason. 

“I love you, too.” Keith lets his face fall into Shiro’s chest and lets himself be led off to bed.


End file.
